The Fall of America: Enemy Within (Book 3) (20 page)

“What is the matter with you, comrade, do you not see the humor in your own death?  What better way for a Christian to die?” Sokol said and then turning to his men he said, “Take this one away.  Master Sergeant Turchin, this method of killing takes too much time, so we will have to speed the process up or find another way to kill them. At the rate we are doing this, say ten minutes a man, in an hour we've only crucified six people and after ten hours, only sixty. Way too slow. Finish this batch up and then we will talk some more on this subject.”

When the last man was hanging on his crude cross, three hours later, Sokol said, “Of the next bunches we will kill them much faster.  We will still hang a hundred on crosses, but the remainder will be burned to death or shot. Find a large building and cram two hundred people in it, especially any children, because most of our men hesitate to shoot children, and then soak it in petrol. Once that has been done, set it on fire. When it is burning well, you may leave. For the shootings, use a large field and the machine-guns. I want no one to escape, do you understand me?  If a single person lives, I will shoot you myself.”

“I fully understand, Colonel.” Master Sergeant Turchin said, but thought,
You are about a ruthless and coldblooded sonofabitch, sir. What have these people done to mother Russia to deserve such a horrendous fate?

A young child of about ten cried out and when Turchin glanced at the noise, he spotted the child crucified and on a cross with the adults. Blood ran freely down the child's legs, from deep cuts made to speed up the death of the victims. For the first time, in his many years as a soldier, Master Sergeant Turchin bowed his head in shame.

“Get the men ready to return to camp with the trucks. I will be returning with them, since the killing is in such capable hands, Master Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.” Turchin replied. As he spoke to the truck drivers, he thought,
More than likely, you need to return for more vodka, Colonel. I can't believe a drunken fool like yourself would leave me to do your nasty work for you.  Nonetheless, it is a lawful order and as such, I cannot refuse, but it disgusts me.

When the next batch arrived, it would take the four trucks three trips to bring 200 prisoners, Turchin had them placed in an old warehouse he'd found. The place had old gas cans, remains of chemicals, and other flammables stored inside. He hoped the resulting fire would kill them quicker, if some explosions occurred as well.

Major Falin arrived and said, “The Colonel sent me along to keep the Americans under better control.”

“Do what is needed, sir, because they are scared to death right now.”

In excellent English, Falin said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the gulag was becoming over crowded so we have moved you to this warehouse for a few days. No later than two days from now you will all be moved to a new prison about three miles west of here.”

Some women smiled, but the men returned hard looks of distrust, so Falin added, “Once all of you are here, we have a big meal of beef and vegetables we will feed you. The new camp will have much better food and you will all be fed three times a day.”

His comments relaxed most, but a few of the men glared at him, which mattered little to the Major, because these Yanks would soon burn to death. Even the cries of small children didn't have any impact on the man, but it did his Sergeants and Private soldiers. A good twenty-five percent of the selected victims were kids.

“Come,” Falin said and then added, “we have work to do to prepare for the next batch of prisoners.” Once outside the warehouse door, he locked the door and had all windows nailed shut, from the outside. He then had ten men pour petrol around and on the building.

“Now, everyone back away from the warehouse.” Falin said, and once all were clear, he struck a match on his boot heel and tossed it to the gasoline.

The flames, fed by the fuel, burned hot and soon the whole structure was ablaze. Screams of fear and pain were heard as smoke filled the facility. The wood was as dry as a desert and soon the roof was burning as well.

“Look below the door!” a private yelled.

  Turchin looked in horror as the right arms of two men were extended from the building as they attempted to crawl under the small space under the door. The arms were blackened and dirty. Then the small right arm of a badly burned child popped out from under the door and the Sergeant turned away, sickened by what he was a part of this day.

J
ohn cursed that his group had only killed the two Russians that lay dead at his feet. Both were Privates, and he suspected the Commander of the Headquarters had been with the dead men. They'd been lucky that Dolly had smelled them, or it was very likely they would have never discovered them at all. The green camouflage of the Russian uniforms made them hard to see at night, even with NVG's on. Pulling a hand drawn ace of spades card, John placed it in the mouth of the older looking Private and then said, “Let's move. I want to be at the garage before sunup. Same positions as before.”

Jets were heard almost constantly moving overhead, their engines whining as they passed from every imaginable compass heading. John wasn't worried about the jets so much as the Black Sharks and Ka-60's, both of which carried special gear to allow them to spot humans on the ground. The earlier mist had turned to rain and the safety of the group had gone up considerably. The infrared technology used to spot targets failed to function at a hundred percent. They needed to move now and do it quickly, while the weather was against the enemy.

When they neared the garage a couple of long hours later, Tom said, “I'll go check it out. We may be the first to return, but I doubt we're even close, not at the speed we moved.”

John knew he was hinting that the Colonel slowed them down, and the man did, but there was no safe place to leave him. Just because the former prisoner was weak and malnourished wasn't his fault.
I suspect it'll take him months to gain most of his strength back,
John thought as he saw Tom wave from the door of the building. “Okay, people, let's move to the building.”

Inside, a fire burned in the old wood stove and cans of Russian rations were being heated on top.  Men and women were laying in all positions on the filthy floor, fatigue obvious in some faces. Willy raised his head, gave a weak grin and said, “You're likely the last ones that will return. We suffered fifty dead and twenty wounded, but we've shown the Russian Bear we can hit them when we have the urge.”

“Damn, Willy,” Esom said, “I knew it'd cost us in blood to take the place.” The black sniper shook his head at the number of fatalities.

“Esom, it cost us more than I thought, only right now dead partisans matter little. John, bring your group to me and let me explain the total cost of our attack.”

Once everyone was close to him and seated on the floor, Willy said, “The Russians were so pissed that we killed a hundred of them, they killed over five hundred prisoners from the Edwards gulag.”

“Oh, my God.” the Colonel said as his eyes met Willy's.

“How do you know this?” John asked and pulled Dolly near. As he waited for a response, he scratched her ears.

“One of our spies in Edwards reports one hundred were crucified, two hundred shot to death, and another two hundred burned up in an old warehouse. It looks as if we need to turn ugly again and start doing the same to prisoners of war we catch.”

“Hell,” Tom said, “we kill 'em anyway.”

“We shoot them, Tom. However, from now on, all prisoners are to die in the same manner as our counterparts in gulags.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Sandra asked and then quickly met John's eyes.

“It means, for the next 100 prisoners we catch, we'll crucify them as well.”

“I don't like it, because it puts us on the same level as them, and by God, we're different.” John said, his voice filled with anger.

“Well, I'm sorry you dislike it so much, John, because your cell will start our revenge tonight. I want the nightly convoy to Jackson hit, and hit hard. Every effort will be made to get prisoners. Once the Russians are captured, we'll take them to a spot along the freeway and then crucify them.”

“Damn it, Willy.” John said, “I don't think I can crucify a man, because it's not right.”

Giving a dry laugh, Tom said, “If I remember correctly, a couple of years back you had no problems torturing a member of the Patton family almost to death in your barn.  John, as much as I hate to say it, I agree with Willy. We must show them, no matter how bad a taste it leaves in our mouths, that we can and will do the same to their people. Only then, maybe, will they respect us enough to stop the inhumane killings of innocent prisoners.”

Sandra asked, “Any children killed?”

“Over twenty-five of those discovered burned to death were kids, most under the age of ten.” Then, pulling out a poster written in Russian, Willy read, “All resistance is to cease immediately. From this day forward five prisoners will be killed for every Russian. You cannot win your war against us, so lay down your arms and we will welcome you as brothers. Come to us and let us stop this fighting. We have food, warm beds and clothing for all. Signed, Boris Dubow, Colonel, Commander of Russian Forces Mississippi.”

“Bullshit,” the Colonel said, “I got half a cup of watered down soup a day and they liked to killed me during each interrogation. They have a butcher named Sokol, a Colonel, that is one bloodthirsty sonofabitch!  He burned me, cut on me, blew an eardrum out, and put my old ass through the most horrible pain in my life. If I ever catch the bastard, I will skin him alive! Do you hear me, Willy?”

“I hear you, Colonel, and I'll give you the man if we ever get our hands on him and that's a promise.”

The Colonel didn't reply, but did smile.

“Tonight, I want most of the convoy to pass before you blow up the tanker of gasoline that is always toward the end. The tanker truck is usually the fourth or fifth truck from the end of the convoy, for safety reasons. At that point, we rush in, kill a few and try to snatch some prisoners. I'll take my cell and yours. Now, I realize some of you may dislike what we'll be doing to the prisoners, but I've given this a great deal of thought. I'm in charge and I've made up my mind. When you're in charge, feel free to do things differently. We leave at 1900 hours. I suggest we all get some rest before then.”

As they broke up to catch some sleep, Willy said, “Colonel, you'll remain here until I get back.  I don't see a valid reason to risk both Colonels on the same mission.”

“Smart thinking and I will keep things running smoothly until you return.”

Catching John looking at him, Willy winked.

At 2100 hours, both cells lined the south-side of the east and west highway to Jackson, Mississippi.  Claymore mines were in place, partisans positioned, and all were ready for the 2200 convoy.

At exactly 2200 hours a lone motorcycle rider passed, then two more motorcycles, and finally an old American car used as a staff car, usually occupied by a Captain or Major.
One thing about the Russians, they always start the dance right on time,
John thought as he petted Dolly.  

Tonight's convoy was larger than usual, with twenty-five trucks counted. Usually the trucks were empty on the way to Jackson, because the city had a large airport. More supplies were flown to the capital city than sent up the Mississippi to Vicksburg or other areas.

“Smith says the end of the convoy is coming up and the tanker will be here in no time.” Tom said.

“Everyone, get down, now!” Willy yelled and picked up both clackers to the Claymore mines.

John pointed at the approaching tanker and said, “Here it comes!”

As the front bumper passed in front of him, Willy set off the first Claymore and the vehicle continued to move forward by momentum. When the tank was in front of him, he squeezed the second clacker, creating a ball of yellowish-red flames, as the tank was ripped to shreds by the powerful mine.  No screams were heard, but John knew the driver of the truck and his security man were burnt toast.  Nothing could survive the intense heat and flames of the gasoline truck. The tanker continued to move forward, rocked a few times and then fell on it's side, burning brightly.

The convoy was stunned, those in front doing as they were supposed to do and gunning their engines. Those behind the tanker stopped, mainly because when the big tanker had been blown on it's side, it was blocking the roadway. Partisans ran forward and a firefight quickly started.

Willy stood and yelled “To the trucks!” Suddenly his head snapped back quickly and his skull flew apart and Colonel William “Willy” Williams fell to the ground—dead.

John, seeing Willy fall and realizing he was dead, called out, “Take the trucks, now!”

Grenades were thrown by the partisans and the stunned Russians tried to establish a defense, but they were simply overwhelmed.  Rifle fire filled the night for a little less than ten minutes. Finally, four Russians raised their hands in surrender.

“Margie and Tom, move forward and secure those men. Take no chances, and I mean
none.
If one so much as passes gas, kill his ass.”